Hurricanes
by amberpire
Summary: - she knows she should be classier than this, but these are the only moments they get. ;Maka/Stein;


"Maka, I need to see you after class."

She glances up, the eraser of her pencil wedged between her two front teeth. The professor isn't even looking at her, his head bowed over papers, fingers gliding over his mouth in a way she knows means he wants to take a smoke break. Her eyes travel to the students around her, not even glancing up, not even caring. Even Soul is silent, his forehead meshed to the desk and his mouth open with soft snores, white spikes of hair splayed around him like a jagged halo.

Maka leans back in her chair with her thumbs twirling in her lap. Could everyone be so oblivious? She chews her lip. This was the third time this week the professor had asked her to stay after class and no one had noticed, not even Kid, and he was known for catching such details. Her gaze shifted away from Soul to the young Reaper, finding him fussing manically over Patty's hair. Apparently, her blonde braids are lopsided or something - poor Kid looked about ready to have a heart attack and die. Lizzy rolls her eyes and turns back to her book, a disapproving frown on her face.

Not Ox. Not Black Star. Not Tsubaki. Maka chews her lip. It's not their fault, she knows that, really, it's just - she figured someone would have noticed by now, would have at least asked. She plays with the ends of her ponytails and sighs gently, listening to the faint tick of the clock behind her. Her eyes focus on the professor then, following the stitches of his labcoat and grazing over the shards of gray hair. His face is out of view, but she could imagine it well, had seen it up close enough to be able to manifest the very last detail and project it on the screen over her mind - the scar running below his amber eyes, the slope of his nose, the way his pale skin always smelled faintly of smoke and if it had been anyone else, she probably would have thought that was disgusting, but it was him, and she couldn't think something so dirty like that about the doctor.

"A-Are you okay?"

Maka doesn't answer for several moments, not thinking the question is directed at her - or maybe she is still distracted by her images of the professor's face - but when she doesn't hear an answer she turns automatically, light brows flying up to see Crona lifting a trembling smile at her. She gives one back, reaching out to tentatively touch his shoulder. The frail boy tries to straighten his back, hands picking nervously in the dip of his lap as he peeks up at her through the parts of his coral bangs.

"I'm fine," Maka assures him, nodding firmly. She was. There was nothing wrong, really - she wasn't distraught or anything, she just ... it bugged her, that no one has asked or noticed or picked up on any signs. It wasn't like she was being all that discreet about it. Crona had caught her staring, but he simply nodded and took her word as truth. It wasn't like Crona to ask questions, anyway. He didn't have the courage for that, was only told things that Maka decided to tell him. He was her best friend, and maybe she should tell him, maybe ... but Crona didn't know how to deal with stuff like that and he wouldn't understand. Besides, he looked up to her so much, put her on a pedestal, and she didn't want to ruin the image he had of her. Innocent and sweet, an A+ and law abiding student - certainly not one to -

The bell burst through the speakers. Among the sound of thundering feet came a loud "Ya-hoo!" as Black Star forced his way through the crowd and broke through the doors. Maka rolls her eyes as she stands, slowly arranging her books neatly on top of each other as the rest of the students filtered out. She gives Crona a small wave as he ducks out of the classroom with a nervous smile. Maka kicks the back of Soul's chair, the jolt causing him to buck upward, eyes blinking blearily up at her.

"That wasn't cool, Maka, I was -"

"The bell rang." Maka scoops her books into her arms and walks around him, dropping down the steps until it is carpet beneath her feet. Her eyes shift to the professor again, his head still down, the rustling of paper turning the only indication that he was even awake. Soul grumbles as he moves past her, pausing by the door, ruby eyes narrowing in her direction as he tosses a thumb toward the exit.

"You coming?"

"Professor Stein wants to talk to me." She spins on her heel and looks at her weapon, wondering if anything would pass over his face - curiosity, wonder, suspicion, anything - but he gives a slow, simple shrug of his shoulders and slips out of the room, the faint click as it slides back into place echoing in the now almost empty room. She sighs, dropping her books on the nearest desk, about to turn around to face the professor once more only to feel an arm bump against her shoulder. All of her senses instantly jolt on high, the hairs of her neck bolting upright as his chest melts against her back.

"For such talented fighters, they sure are completely and totally oblivious." His fingers are balanced on her elbows, hovering, and Maka's body leans back, her head resting on his chest as his fingers travel upward.

"I was just thinking the same thing," she mumbles, and his lips are by her ear, the sweet tang of cigarettes following behind his words.

"Even your father, so overprotective, hasn't noticed a thing."

Maka can't muffle the smile spreading across her face. "But if he did ..."

"Oh, if he did." Stein's fingers smooth across her shoulder, brushing her neck. Maka's flesh flushes with goosebumps. It's almost embarrassing how such little touches make her almost explode, a thousand strings coiling in her stomach as his grip tightens on her chin. "He would kill me." He turns her with little effort, her swaying body all but melting to the floor. The lids of her eyes swoop over her thick, green irises, hands hanging uselessly at her sides.

It had always been like this. Her brain just sputtered out, forgot what to do, what to say, how to work, except to respond to what his body did to her. She remembers, faintly, as his thumb follows the line of her jaw, the first time this had happened. It had been months ago, shortly after the kishin, Asura, was destroyed, when she had wandered into his office late at night. She demanded an explanation as to why her heart wouldn't slow down whenever she looked at him, why her hands were clammy, why she couldn't answer questions when he called on her in class. She needed to understand the shaking of her knees, the rush to her cheeks, why he occupied her thoughts almost all of the time. Initially, she had gone there to make it stop. She couldn't focus on friends or school or fighting. She remembers, with a mental eyeroll, she had been convinced she was sick, that he had some virus that was infecting her and she was beyond furious when she realized no one else in the class reacted to the professor the way she did.

She remembers Stein blinking blankly up at her from his desk and for several moments didn't do anything but that, and she had shifted uncomfortably, chewing her lip and tapping her foot on the ground. Maka's lips bring up a ghost of a smile as the memory of Stein circling his desk and pushing his hand into the dip of her back and pushing their hips together consumes her mind, the way his lips had molded against hers for the first time.

Kind of like they are now.

Her eyes fall closed, hands snapping into action and curling around the edges of his labcoat. His lips are warm. With a sharp inhale of her nose she smells smoke and the faint sting of sanitizer and his hands are curling around her waist, pulling her forward, turning her around. She lands in a sitting position on the desk, long, nimble legs hooking around his hips as he leans over her, the kiss deepening. His hand aids her head back, tongue slipping over her lips. They part with a soft moan, caught in her chest, and he tastes like cigarettes and it should be disgusting but it's so _good_.

She doesn't know why or when or how it started, the feelings, the crushing waves that had caused tidal waves in her chest. All she knew is that when she was with him, her insides felt like they were caught in a hurricane and the way he looked at her, as more than a meister, more than a student, like a _woman_ - it wasn't something she was willing to give up. And it wasn't long before he was asking her to call him Stein instead of Professor, when he was spilling secrets in the dark of his office, when he told her all of the terrible thoughts he still had to suppress, even terrifying thoughts about her, when she felt the walls that she had built up around her falling down and she found herself crying softly into his arm as she talked about her mother. Even then, he still looked at her the same - as a woman, in awe, with respect, and he wasn't some deranged lunatic to her, even though her peers insisted he was. He was soft and kind and gentle, and to him, she was more than just a talented meister.

"Stein -" The door isn't locked. His breaths come out in heavy pants, his fingers gliding down the front of her shirt, pricking at the cloth of her skirt. They're usually very safe about this, taking every precaution. They lock the classroom door, the office door, close the blinds, and sink to the floor in a fit of suppressed passion with carpet burns on her shoulders. But here, the sun is laughing at them through the windows, the door is unguarded, they're on his _desk_ for Christ's sake and she knows she should be classier than this, but these are the only moments they get. She's only seventeen. Stein is a professor and the consequences could destroy both of them. She would be expelled, he would get fired, if not exiled, if not killed - he was right about her father. There would be no mercy.

Sometimes, that frustrated her. Knowing that they only had this, this classroom to bury themselves in for such a short amount of time, to try and clash their souls together in quickies between classes. She would lie in bed at night, twisting in the sheets, the memory of his lips on her collarbone or her hips driving her to near madness. She wasn't sure how long she could keep it up, how long she could live on just these few short hours a couple of times a week. She gasps as his hand glides up her thigh, cold fingers brushing against her core.

"S-Stein -"

"I'll know when someone is coming," he mumbles into her neck, kissing and licking at her jugular. He always sounds so calm, so collected, even as his fingers push her panties to the side and glide over damp lips. Her hips tremble with a loud sound that she bites down, swallowing, her fingers clenching so hard into his labcoat, her knuckles bleach white. He chuckles when she bucks forward, eyes fluttering closed.

She swears under her breath, pulling him over her once more and locking their mouths together. A heavy moan vibrates his lips and his hips push forward, guided by her crossed ankles behind his back. His hands abandon her, attending to his pants, the sound of a zipper gliding down making her tremble. Maka can't see it, but there is the crinkle of a condom opening - it's fast, Stein has to be, because their time is precious and slipping away from them. Maka's fingers release the doctor's labcoat, pulling the edges of her skirt up and curling around the elastic of her panties as she gives another frantic look at the door.

"Relax, Maka."

Her eyes travel back to him, his smile comforting as the sunlight catches off of the glass of his spectacles. Her breathing stops because - well, just look at him. His saffron eyes burn as his hands replace hers, her shaking fingers falling to the sides of her as the thin material is pulled down her legs, tugged over her shoes. A blush creeps up her cheeks, even though he's seen her in much less than this, as he slips between her legs again, lips on her neck, teeth pulling at her skin.

Anyone could walk in and see them and they wouldn't have time to separate enough to make it look innocent. There's always that threat, and one day, she's sworn that it won't be a secret, that this won't be something to hide. When she's old enough, when it'll be okay, when no one will look at Stein like he's a monster ... it'll come. She's prepared to wait for that, and her hands clench and her mouth clamps shut as moans ride of her - he's inside of her, his pace slow and easy, even though she can feel his hips shaking. He leans up, him standing, her splayed across the desk and she can feel paper under her back, a pen buried in her right shoulder, but she doesn't care because pleasure is sparking along her spine and she's saying, "Faster, Stein, oh f- _please_ -"

He obliges quickly, his thrusts punctuated by grunts and tight growls of her name - the young meister feels those strings unraveling, her muscles relaxing and tensing all at once, a typhoon of sensations cascading over her and all with the threat of that stupid door waiting unlocked only a few feet away.

"Stein, oh, sh- oh, oh my G-"

It's all been pent up for so long that the two of them are frantic, grinding into the other, his fingers bruising her hips as his thrusts turn into slams, and her desperate whimpers turn into aching moans, and they forget about being quiet right near the top and they both fight back their pleasure, their passion, as a storm swallows them up. There are colors and lights behind Maka's eyes, her body and mind both flooded with him, with Stein, as he pants over her, shaking arms braced on either side of her head.

He slowly comes back into focus. Her hands raise, shaky, unsure, swiping away his gray hair to meet his eyes, amber sliding into green. He smiles down at her, heavy pants of smoke filling the small space between their faces, and then she kisses him.

Minutes later, she has her panties back on, her hair is adjusted, and she's sitting in Stein's lap behind his desk. She rubs at the sore spot in her shoulder where a pen had been pushing into her. His hand replaces hers, the other on her knee, as her head cradles under his chin.

"Stein?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think maybe one day we-"

"Of course." Stein's lips turn to press against the top of her head. "Your father still might kill me then, but yes. Absolutely. I grow tired of floors and desks."

She smiles into his neck. She knows this means waiting, of a hundred more moments just like this one with the threat of an unlocked door or a cracked window or a wandering student overhearing them, but, right now, she was okay with that. Really.

/

"What took you so long?"

It's Soul. She sits beside him, smiling softly as she sets her tray of steaming food on the table. It isn't just Soul waiting for an answer - Maka raises her head to find a nervous Crona and a staring Black Star also watching her, all of their eyebrows raised.

She shrugs. "Nothing."

The smile hides behind her wrist.

One day, they'll know.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Yeah. So._

_I finished the series last night and now I'm like ... sexually frustrated. Thus, this._

_I'm thinking I'll probably write about that first time that's mentioned briefly - maybe in first person POV. Maybe from Stein's POV. Who knows._

_Also, please review. They curb my appetite. For sex._


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